


She Walks in Beauty

by wefitzthings



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Lord Byron gets a snog, She Walks in Beauty, Thirteen holds a baby, everything I write is super melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefitzthings/pseuds/wefitzthings
Summary: The Doctor is a romantic, and someone needs to snog Byron. She also needed to cuddle the baby for longer than half a second (or the fans needed her to at least)... so I wrote an indulgent one-shot!I haven't read over this (nor has anyone else) so it may currently be absolutely terrible and full of typos, I'll update it at some point tomorrow, but for now I just wanted to get the first draft out there!Includes Lord Byron's poem 'She Walks in Beauty' (which I did not write, clearly)
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Lord Byron
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	She Walks in Beauty

She's been trying to break the habit, so when she drops the fam off to spend a weekend back at home and they don't immediately call on her to deal with impending doom, she doesn't visit Gallifrey.

That leaves her with a predicament however, because she needs to do something with her time, and as much as she'd like to simply skip the weekend and pick her friends back up on the other side of Sunday, she know that their time is limited. One day, and she senses that day may not be too far away, they'll decide to stay at home for good. The more she paces herself, the longer she'll get to stay with them, and she's scared of what it will mean to be alone again.

She thinks back to to the time they spent at Lake Geneva a few weeks beforehand. They still hadn't dealt with the future repercussions of their excursion, but it occured to her that it might be a good idea to nip back and double check that everything made it's way back to the way it should have been. It was the responsible thing to do really. Wasn't it?

She dug out the waistcoat she'd worn for the occasion, and before she could second guess her reasoning, she found herself walking those familiar halls. She'd chosen her time badly, and found the house in silence, all it's inhabitants currently asleep. Or perhaps the TARDIS had chosen badly, but the Doctor knew that thinking as much around her wouldn't bode well, lest she face retaliation and end up months late to pick her friends back up once she was done here!

Suddenly she hears the sound of a baby fussing from a room just further down the hallway, and remembers William. She's sure that the rest of the house is in need of as much rest as they can get after their encounter with the lone cyberman, and so she enters the room, and lifts the small child into her arms.

Gently rocking her body back and forth, her restless energy a gift in the moment, the baby gives a satisfied gurgle, and the doctor holds her own breath for a moment. She's spent months avoiding contact with those around her as much as possible, feeling as though she might break if she allowed herself a moment of relent.

Now though, her guard is down, and she feels the tears ready to fall and a lump in the back of her throat, as a tiny hand wraps itself in her hair and fascinated eyes stare up at her. She's not sure how long she spends lulling the boy to sleep, but just as she's about to reluctantly set him down, she senses someone else in the room.

She looks up, and is shocked by the softness of the expression on Byron's face. She clears her throat and banishes the tears she might otherwise have shed to the back of her mind as she lowers William into his cot.

"I'd comment on how carrying a child becomes you, but I rather feel you'd object, and I'd hate to ruin such a beautiful moment."

The Doctor rolls her eyes, and wonders how oblivious he must be to think that stating your reluctance to mention something would have a different effect than simply mentioning it on any potential moment. At the same time, her earlier impatience at his clear admiration of her is faded now. The newfound lack of an urgent threat, combined with her current desire to let herself breathe for a moment, allows her to acknowledge how the underlying pleasure of the flattery.

"Might we take a late night stroll in the grounds, Mrs. Doctor?"

"I've already told you, it's just-"

"My apologies, Doctor!"

Despite his infuriating grin, the apology seems genuine, and he gives her a questioning look as he offers his arm. She takes it hesitantly, unsure of herself after so many lifetimes of being the gentleman in any given situation, but as they make their way outside she relaxes against him. Tonight seems to be a night for reaquaintance with physical contact, and she's quickly realises that despite her characteristic awkwardness, her response to touch is no where near as bad as she'd been imagining. She could definitely get used to this.

Not with Byron of course, not after tonight at least. She imagined that this would be the last time she'd see anyone from this place. It had been a long time since, but vague memories of her own past told her that she'd need to make way for a past version of herself sooner rather than later. That said, there was no harm in enjoying the moment she supposed.

Eventually, the Doctor and Byron find themselves overlooking the lake, and as she shivers he gently places an arm around her, looking into her eyes with an unvoiced question. 

'Is this okay?'.

She smiles, and he relaxes his arm, as she lets herself fold into him. There were benefits of being this short she realised. Few and far between, but benefits none the less. She couldn't remember feeling quite this encapsulated since she was a child.

He starts reciting familiar words and she's once again struggling with a lump in the back of her throat,

"She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies."

She smiles, both at the words being spoken, and at the cheek of it. She knows those words weren't meant for her. Not originally at least, but maybe they're meant for her in this moment, and so she interrupts and continues on,

"One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace. Which waves in every raven tress, or softly lightens over her face; where thoughts serenely sweet express, how pure how dear their dwelling-place."

She laughs and looks at her feet, as at the mention of raven tresses he tucks her own, decidedly blonde, tresses behind her ear. The man is ridiculous, but as she looks back up she can't help but notice his own raven hair before she meets his eyes. It looks soft and inviting, but her hand pauses at her side as she changes her mind half way to caressing it in return.

As Byron continues, their foreheads pressed together and his hand against her cheek, he captures her hand with his other and brings it up to rest at it's intended destination. The feel of her fingers running through his hair adds a sense of breathlessness to his words,

"and on that cheek, and over that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent, a mind peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent!"

She wasn't so sure about innocent, but this moment felt purer than she'd ever imagined one with Lord Byron ever could. Her mind weakly protests about this being against the rules as she gently parts her lips, and reminds it that the doctor is never good with rules. Lips press against hers for the first time since she was Scottish, and she remembers that she is a romantic, after all.


End file.
